


In Tarnished Armor

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Moonlit Miami [1]
Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, F/M, GFY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-10-30
Updated: 2010-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a time-line where some things have gone very differently, a few events still happen almost the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Tarnished Armor

Pain, tearing through skin and muscle, a burn that spread through her abdomen in the wake of the bullet. She could hear the furious and frightened yell of her brother, felt him catch her as she fell, lowering her gently to the pavement as people around them scattered and ran. She gritted her teeth, forcing open eyes that had shut instinctively against the pain, looking up at the bright blue sky above her.

"Mari, come on, hold on." Eric leaned over her, worry in his expression, one hand smoothing back her hair. "Duquesne!" He looked up, and Marisol heard the calm, measured tones of her body-guard replying, southern drawl softening what could have been a sharp edge.

"I'm already calling an ambulance, Mr. Delko." Calliegh paused, then spoke to the dispatcher on the other end of the phone. "Yes, there's been a shooting on the waterfront, we need an ambulance here now.... Two victims, ma'am, male in his late twenties shot in the arm, woman in her early thirties shot in the abdomen.... I'm right here with them, she's not trying to get up right now, no...."

Marisol ignored the rest of the conversation, searching along the walk near her hand for her purse. "My purse, Eric. Where's my purse?" Her voice was more breathless than she'd thought it should be, and Eric hushed her, handing her the purse. "I have to call Horatio..."

"I'll call him, Marisol. Just save your strength for fighting this. You've got to make it." Eric had his cell phone out, and was punching in a number by heart, making Marisol smile. "H, it's Eric. We're down at the waterfront, a sniper took shots at Marisol and me."

She could imagine Horatio snapping out a question about her well-being on the other end as Eric paused, and a small smile curved the corners of her mouth.

"She's alive, H, ambulance is on the way. Duquesne's on the phone with them." Another pause, more imagined words to replace whatever was really being said. "I'll stay with her until you get here, then I'm going to find out who did this to my sister."

There was a snarl in his voice with those last words, and Marisol smiled a bit. Even now, he was her protector, the strong shield against the dangers and evils of the world they lived in. Horatio was just as protective as Eric, her knight in tarnished armor, making sure that no one dared to sneer at her because of her roots or her choices. Her brother and her husband, and she couldn't let them down.

She hissed out a breath as the pain spiked through her when Eric jostled her a little. He looked down, worry knotting his brow a moment before she smiled at him, fierce and determined. Refusing to let it drag her down, fighting this as hard as she'd fought the cancer before.

~ ~~ ~

She wasn't sure when she passed out, or if unconsciousness came when they put her out for surgery, but when she fought her way through the haze of anesthesia drugs, Horatio was sitting by her bed, holding tightly to her hand, watching her face. He looked his age right now, worry etching narrow furrows in his face that smoothed away to fine lines as he met her eyes.

"Horatio." Her voice was rough, and she tightened her hand around Horatio's with a frown of annoyance before he reached out to pick up a cup from the table nearby. Holding it as she sipped, sweet juice wetting her throat and soothing the bit of raw pain there.

"Horatio," she tried again. "You look tired. What happened?"

"I almost thought we lost you." He set the cup back down, reaching out to stroke her hair back from her face. "But you're going to make it." There was a hint of the command steel she knew he could summon, had heard him use with his lieutenants before, and it made her smile.

"I'm not going anywhere." There was quiet promise in her voice, and she shifted her grip on his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Except home with you."

It was two more days before they let her go home. Two nights spent in restless sleep in a strange bed, waking up to find only Calleigh at her bedside, sitting silent watch to ensure whoever had shot her before couldn't come back and finish the job. Worry for Eric and Horatio gnawing at the back of her mind until they came to visit - never together, just passing by as one left and the other arrived. Never leaving her alone for a minute.

Sliding into the back of the car next to Horatio was a relief, and Marisol nestled into his side with a soft sigh, glad to be going home. As she'd planned from the moment she heard the first shot four days earlier, and watched her brother jerk back in pain. As she'd promised herself, and promised him.


End file.
